A silent melody...
Ever wake up in the middle of the night and just wondered: What the hell am I doing here?
Well, that's how I feel all the time.
But somewhere beyond my mind and beyond this world, there is a place where sleep never ends.
And in that place is where I belong.
I am 20 years old.
And all that I am, feels dead already.
My life consists of the music I make,
the lies I tell,
and the dreams I dream.
And my mind will always be restless.
My heart will always be sore.
My soul will never be convinced of its own existence.
Not until it all comes to an end.
Not until there is no more I can do about it.
I cannot stop the world from revolving.
I cannot survive doing what I love.
If it were entirely up to me, I would not allow myself to breathe another second.
But that would be unethical in our system.
And I allow myself to be part of that system.
Right at this hour, there is a child who has the same dreams as my own, the same spirit, the same gift of music...
But he lives in a 3rd world culture.
He cannot allow himself to learn the purpose of the keys on the piano.
He cannot envision his next orchestral composition.
All he wants is something to eat and some more comforting shoes.
He's so poor, he doesn't even know the gift he carries.
He wakes up every morning and whistles an original melody while he gathers dirty water from a creek.
And that whistling melody is not appreciated by anyone.
It is not recorded and shared with the rest of the world on MySpace.
It is kept to himself.
Yet, I'm pissed because I know I will never make it as a composer.
I'm pissed because my GPA is low because I am attending college to do a job I have no desire of doing.
All I'm appreciative of is the free shortstack I got to eat at Ihop this morning.
And there is a boy on the other side, who will die tomorrow, whistling the same tune I just made up on the piano today.
The same exact melody.
But he didn't get his short stack.
And tomorrow, he will die because he has no food.
And his song dies with him.
How lucky he is.
Uncorrupted by all the superficial nonsense I deal with every day.
I worry about how well I will do on my astronomy exam tomorrow.
He worries that tomorrow night, he won't even get to see the stars.
I worry that I will be stuck in the same damn place all my life.
He worries that tomorrow might be the last time he'll get to drink out of the piss-infested creek with his friends.
Our worlds are two completely opposite places.
But we both have the same song stuck in our head.
And the sickest part is,
tomorrow I will not have changed.
Well, that's how I feel all the time.
But somewhere beyond my mind and beyond this world, there is a place where sleep never ends.
And in that place is where I belong.
I am 20 years old.
And all that I am, feels dead already.
My life consists of the music I make,
the lies I tell,
and the dreams I dream.
And my mind will always be restless.
My heart will always be sore.
My soul will never be convinced of its own existence.
Not until it all comes to an end.
Not until there is no more I can do about it.
I cannot stop the world from revolving.
I cannot survive doing what I love.
If it were entirely up to me, I would not allow myself to breathe another second.
But that would be unethical in our system.
And I allow myself to be part of that system.
Right at this hour, there is a child who has the same dreams as my own, the same spirit, the same gift of music...
But he lives in a 3rd world culture.
He cannot allow himself to learn the purpose of the keys on the piano.
He cannot envision his next orchestral composition.
All he wants is something to eat and some more comforting shoes.
He's so poor, he doesn't even know the gift he carries.
He wakes up every morning and whistles an original melody while he gathers dirty water from a creek.
And that whistling melody is not appreciated by anyone.
It is not recorded and shared with the rest of the world on MySpace.
It is kept to himself.
Yet, I'm pissed because I know I will never make it as a composer.
I'm pissed because my GPA is low because I am attending college to do a job I have no desire of doing.
All I'm appreciative of is the free shortstack I got to eat at Ihop this morning.
And there is a boy on the other side, who will die tomorrow, whistling the same tune I just made up on the piano today.
The same exact melody.
But he didn't get his short stack.
And tomorrow, he will die because he has no food.
And his song dies with him.
How lucky he is.
Uncorrupted by all the superficial nonsense I deal with every day.
I worry about how well I will do on my astronomy exam tomorrow.
He worries that tomorrow night, he won't even get to see the stars.
I worry that I will be stuck in the same damn place all my life.
He worries that tomorrow might be the last time he'll get to drink out of the piss-infested creek with his friends.
Our worlds are two completely opposite places.
But we both have the same song stuck in our head.
And the sickest part is,
tomorrow I will not have changed.
posted by Jeremy @ 3:10 AM
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